Prologue - Sourcebooks

Prologue

I was a storm.

Adrenaline ripped through my veins like lightning as I

leaned close to the body of my crow, preparing to execute a dive.

Iyla’s warm, steady heat kept me grounded, even hundreds of feet

in the air. Cold wind whipped tendrils of hair free from my braid,

nipping at the skin around my goggles and stealing my breath.

The thin, well- worn saddle beneath me was nothing more than

a strip of leather to bind stirrups to, the reins trailing from my

hands to Iyla’s beak, an illusion of control— this ride depended on

trust and mutual respect. Anything less, and no amount of leather

would keep me seated on Iyla’s back.

Years of Estrel’s instructions raced through my mind: Keep

your body low and tight in a dive. Give the reins slack. Keep your

knees back so you don’t put pressure on the crow’s wing joints. I knew

it all like my own heartbeat.

I tucked close to Iyla’s body, and we dove.

StormCrow_INT.indd 1 10/15/18 11:41 AM

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Water misted my skin as Iyla’s storm crow magic split apart a

cloud a second before we shot through it and plummeted toward

the earth. My heart screamed into my throat, pure, unadulterated

joy erupting through me with every passing moment. I held my

breath as we fell, counting the seconds— we could only gain so

much speed before Iyla’s wings wouldn’t be able to handle the

strain of opening.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

We burst through layers of clouds, Aris spread out below

us. The city was a blur as we dove, a sea of light and color fast

approaching.

Twenty. I squeezed my knees, and Iyla’s wings snapped open

like the slice of a blade, catching an updraft to send us sailing in

a gentle arc. Lightning buzzed at the tips of Iyla’s wings as she let

out a piercing call.

I sucked in a lungful of cold air and let it out in a laugh, the

thrill of the dive resounding through me like a thunderclap. I

craved that feeling like starved lungs craved air, letting it fill me

until I felt impossibly alive.

We circled wide and low, descending the rest of the way until

Iyla’s shadow blanketed the city streets.

Aris unfurled beneath us like a colorful map, dense with thick

green foliage and spotted with wildflowers. People called up to us,

waving from crowded streets as revelers prepared for the festival

leading up to Negnoch, the city’s yearly hatch night. In a few hours,

every single crow from across the kingdom of Rhodaire would put

on a masterful display of riding and magic, and the year’s crows

would be hatched.

One of them would be mine. Tonight, I would choose my own

crow and become a rider.

We dipped lower, children chasing Iyla’s shadow in the hopes


3

of catching a stray feather to wish upon. This was my favorite part

of flying. Even more than the thrill of diving or the magic of soar-

ing through endless skies, I loved gliding peacefully above Aris, the

wind brushing along my skin as the city passed below.

Even on the back of a stolen crow. Well, not quite stolen. Iyla

belonged to Estrel, my teacher and mother’s best friend, and while

Estrel had let me ride Iyla alone before, she technically hadn’t

given me permission to tonight.

Probably because I didn’t ask.

A gentle tug on the reins sent Iyla a little higher, and we fell

in line over the crystal waters of the canal in the Rynthene Wing.

To my left, earth crows helped work the fields, tilling land in huge

swaths with the pulse of their magic. To my right, the fading sun-

light glinted off an armored battle crow.

All over Aris, the crows and riders integrated into the city’s

inner workings would be finishing up the day’s tasks. Later, they’d

join the military pouring in from Rhodaire’s outer reaches in prepa-

ration for the Sky Dance.

We followed the canal to the castle at the city’s heart. The

giant, gray stone structure stretched into the sky, delladon vines

sprawling across its pale face like laugh lines. From each of the

four sides of the central tower, a crescent- shaped landing platform

jutted out, and I used the nearest one as a marker to veer Iyla right

toward the royal rookery. It was a tall, circular tower with wide

windows on the third floor for easy landing.

My nerves jittered. Landing was the hardest part, even with

Estrel’s lessons branded into my mind.

Let the crow do the work; it knows what it’s doing. Keep your

weight back. Never dismount while a crow’s folding its wings, or you

risk straining the joints.

We glided easily through one of the rookery’s large, open


4

windows, Iyla as practiced in this maneuver as breathing. Her

wings flared back, sending straw swirling across the stone floor as

her massive black claws reached out, taking hold of the nearest

T- shaped perch. We fell to a standstill, her wings tucking in tight

to her muscled form. She was almost reptilian with a lean, muscu-

lar body, the proportions a little longer, a little more limber than

a normal bird.

I let out a whoop, grinning as I tugged down my goggles and

swung off her back, throwing my arms around her. Her long neck

straightened as she stiffened, but I’d learned long ago that she’d

not only tolerate hugs but secretly liked them.

“Anthia!”

My excitement went cold at my mother’s sharp voice. A flurry

of black wings filled the opposite window as her battle crow, Tyros,

landed effortlessly on the perch across from Iyla, sending a gust of

straw- filled wind into my face.

My mother swung down, stalking toward me with the smooth

litheness of a jungle cat. With the setting sun at her back, she

looked every inch the queen she was, the light making her brown

skin and polished flying leathers gleam with an inner fire.

“What in the Saints’ name do you think you’re doing?” she

demanded.

“Um, talking to Iyla?” I offered. Lying had never been my

strong suit. To her credit, the crow let out a low caw, as if she were

indeed part of the conversation.

My mother didn’t smile. I didn’t expect her to.

“Relax, Alandra.” Estrel emerged from the nearby staircase at

my side, her long, dark curls bound in a thick braid like mine. “I

gave her permission.”

The only person who could tell my mother to relax without

getting eviscerated was Estrel, my aunt in every way but blood.


5

They even looked like sisters, though my mother was taller and

leaner. She and Estrel had grown up together, and I’d even heard

a rumor Estrel’s sister and my mother had courted as teenagers.

My mother frowned, and I straightened beneath the sharpness

of her steel- colored gaze. Her eyes always reminded me of knives,

forever sculpting me in an endless quest for perfection.

“I executed a perfect dive,” I offered, as if my ability to per-

form riding techniques far more advanced than my seventeen years

might soften her gaze.

It only made her eyes narrow. “Taking another rider’s crow out

for a joyride to perform dangerous maneuvers is not only foolish,

it’s insulting.” I flinched. “If you want to prove yourself capable of

being a leader among the riders, you can start by not disrespecting

every rule and custom we live by.”

I refused to wilt beneath the heat of her words. “Well, maybe

if you spent more than a waking second in my presence, I’d know

the rules better.”

Estrel drew a sharp breath, but my mother went stiller than a

shadow crow concealed in darkness. For a fraction of a second, I

swore something pained flashed through her iron gaze, but it van-

ished quickly.

The circlet of silver feathers on her brow gleamed like molten

starlight. “I expect you back here before the hatching.” She turned

to Tyros, who leapt from his perch to the wide window ledge, a

perfect tableau of strength against a backdrop of approaching night.

With a grace I hadn’t yet mastered, she swung up into the saddle.

Wings tucked in tight, Tyros leapt. They plummeted from view,

gone for barely a breath before they soared up past the window,

climbing into the darkening sky.

“That went well,” I muttered.

Estrel smacked the back of my head, and I winced, rubbing


6

the spot though the blow hadn’t hurt. “Stop stealing my crow!”

Despite the snap in her voice, an easy grin filled her face, and she

let out a low laugh when I smiled back.

There wasn’t a single other rider or a single other crow I’d ever

dream of doing with what I did with Iyla. Any other crow would

snatch me by the leg with its beak and toss me off, princess or not.

That was, until I had my own.

My gaze dropped to the gold and black edges of Estrel’s Corvé

tattoo that reached up over her muscular shoulders, denoting her

as one of Rhodaire’s nine crow masters. While the heads of each

house saw to their people, each wing’s Corvé saw to its crows.

Tonight, I would choose my own crow. I would become a

rider. And one day, I would earn the tattoo and become the royal

Corvé after Estrel.

“The Sky Dance starts in an hour,” Estrel said. “Then it’s back

here for the hatching. Are you and Kiva going into the city tonight?”

“To Rua’s.”

She smirked. “Take a breath, Little Peep. Enjoy the night.

You’ll have your crow soon enough.”

Soon enough felt a lifetime away as I bolted down the winding

rookery steps, dodging a rookhand balancing plates of meat, and

out into a perfect Rhodairen winter evening. The air was cool but

not cold and filled with the possibility of rain. Storm crows would

keep it at bay, though I wished they’d let it fall. I’d always wanted

to see a Sky Dance in the rain.

The wind buffeted my escaped curls into my face as I shot

along the gardens, through the castle gates, and into streets filled

with thick green trees and climbing vines trickling down buildings

like rivulets of rainwater.

I veered onto the main road between the Caravel Wing and

Thereal Wing, then cut right into the Thereal section of the city,


7

slowing as a wave of music and laughter washed over me. I made

for Rua’s, a bright- blue building on the corner where a crow had

been painted in sunset colors across one side, done by a street artist

in the night.

Native brown- skinned Rhodairens walked alongside colorfully

dressed, dark- skinned travelers from Trendell, a kingdom far east

of Rhodaire. Both were dwarfed by the pale, long- limbed Korovi

of the northern kingdom. People came to Rhodaire from all over

the world for Negnoch. I even spotted a few revelers from Illucia,

the border kingdom to our north, though they were probably only

here for festival discounts on Rhodairen weapons. Or maybe they

were guards for the visiting Illucian dignitaries.

That was probably what had my mother on edge: their pres-

ence, and their queen who threatened war. She’d already taken

two kingdoms.

Someone seized my arm, spinning me around. Kiva grinned

down at me, her moonlight- colored hair free from its characteristic

braid and down to her shoulders in waves. She still wore her castle

guard uniform, making her look older— sometimes I doubted she

owned anything else. She even had her sword at her hip.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming!” she shouted above

the clamor.

“And let you eat all the orange cakes?”

“Typical. Here for the food.”

I nodded at her uniform. “Hoping to impress someone?” She’d

been flirting with a girl at Rua’s for weeks now.

Kiva’s cheeks burned, and she nudged me with her shoulder.

I grinned. “Race you.”

We dove into the crowd, dodging flying elbows and swinging

hips. Along the sides of the streets, baskets of the last fruits of

the season sat waiting to be eaten, from bright- yellow mangos to


8

fresh- picked oranges. Overhead, thunder boomed in a near cloud-

less sky, a storm crow marking the time.

The night passed in patches. I drank talcé after talcé, sweet

juice drinks filled with pieces of fruit, and ate as many orange

cakes as I could stomach. We danced and sang, following the street

past acrobats and fire- eaters, carts of sweet breads and fruit pies.

Children ran laughing through the streets, kites in the shape of

crows tied to their wrists by long, thin strings. Tradition said if your

kite made it through the night undamaged, you were destined to

become a rider.

Thunder boomed again. The Sky Dance was about to begin.

Crows glided in lazy circles above the castle with riders on

their backs, looking like shadows set adrift in the sky. The sun set

behind them, painting everything deep mauve and carmine, but-

termilk and fuchsia.

The drums started, low and steady at first, matching the rhythm

of the crows as they circled. Then the speed increased, and higher

drums joined in. The circling crows broke in all directions, some

diving straight down, others surging upward in a powerful burst of

speed. They twirled and dove, weaving around each other in exact,

graceful movements.

A fire crow opened its beak and let loose a stream of blue- tinged

flames at a wind crow, which buffeted the fire upward toward a

water crow, which doused it into steam with water from its beak.

Sun crows lit the sky in ethereal gold, their glow fading into wisps

like the light of falling stars. Shadow crows wove ribbons of night

around them, creating intricate shimmering patterns.

Each action a crow took was mimicked by another one across

from it, one formation molding seamlessly into the next, creating a

symmetrical design of beasts, people, and magic, all interwoven in

a dance among the clouds.


9

The drums grew faster. Lightning struck and thunder rolled,

keeping time with the beat. Crows dipped and twirled in perfectly

timed maneuvers I longed to try. My heart raced with them, imagin-

ing the feel of the wind in my hair and the heat of a crow beneath me.

As the music peaked, every crow shot upward, carried by drafts

from wind and storm crows. Then they dove.

As the echo of the final drumbeat sounded, the crows shot out

in all directions in perfectly executed dives. Their deep, echoing

cries filled the sky as the sun finished setting, and the crows blan-

keted the night.

Still ecstatic from the dance, Kiva and I moved off the main

road to find another talcé vendor. The skies had cleared, and the

crows had all returned to the rookeries throughout the city’s wings

to be unsaddled and fed. The images remained seared into the back

of my eyelids. Soon, I would be a part of that dance.

“You’re going to be late,” Kiva warned as we navigated the

crowded street.

“It takes at least half an hour for the crows to be unsaddled

and fed.”

“Which means you’ll leave in half an hour.”

“I’m not late that often— ”

“Yes, you are.”

“Okay, but— ”

A scream ripped through the air. I froze. Kiva’s hand went

to her sword, and she stepped toward me, shielding. Silence

descended like a curtain, sucking the air from the crowded street.

My heart rose and settled in my throat, and for a wingbeat, every-

thing stood still.

Then the Thereal rookery went up in flames.

The screams became a chorus, the screech of crows rising like

a wave. One by one, the rookeries in each Wing erupted with fire.


10

I stood rooted to the spot, the acrid smoke scorching my lungs,

the light of the flames almost too bright to look at. Yet I couldn’t

tear my gaze away, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.

The city was burning.

The words dropped through my mind like jagged stones, too

heavy and sharp to hold on to.

The crowd closed in, people slamming into carts and each other,

all attempting to flee in different directions. Kiva pressed into my

side, her sword half drawn. The familiar screech of metal snapped

me from my trance, and I seized her wrist. “Too many people!”

Scowling, she grabbed my arm and barreled through the writh-

ing mass. A head taller than nearly everyone, the crowd parted to

avoid her elbows and snarled threats. We pushed until we broke

through the edge, gulping down open air drowned in smoke.

“Come on!” Not stopping to rest, I raced along the street and

back toward the castle, Kiva at my back.

Fire fell like rain.

It dripped from buildings, clinging to crumbling stone and

smoldering wood, spreading from the Thereal rookery like a flood.

The bushes lining the road blazed like torches, trees heavy with

fruit turning to ash and filling the air with a sickly, burnt- sugar

scent. It mixed with the smell of seared flesh.

A burst of fire cut across our path, forcing us to stop. As an

earsplitting scream tore past me, I realized it wasn’t a fireball: it

was a man, engulfed in flame.

My stomach turned, and I choked on the poisoned air, desper-

ate to get it out of my lungs. Kiva seized my arm, hauling me along.

The image of the flaming man cut through my mind over and over,

until it felt like I’d never see anything else again.

As we turned up the castle road, I stumbled to a halt. Black

smoke billowed from the royal rookery, darker than the night. Fire


11

writhed, reaching out the open windows with hungry claws. A

crow leapt from one of the windows, feathers alight. It barely had

time to open its wings before an arrow pierced its heart. Another

struck its throat. It dropped four stories to the earth with a sicken-

ing crunch.

This didn’t make any sense. The eggs were in there, and the

crows… My thoughts ground to a halt, unable to venture any fur-

ther. Unable to think, unable to breathe.

I only became aware Kiva was shaking me when she nearly

knocked me to the ground. “Move!” she screamed.

Slowly, I looked at her. She’d drawn her sword, and the fire-

light cast strange shadows across her pale skin. For an impossi-

bly long moment, my smoke- riddled brain could process only her

bright, unbound hair. It was white as bone.

She pushed me again, and I stumbled. “Anthia, move!”

I blinked. Guards were sprinting in every direction, shouting

orders. Some had their swords drawn, dueling pale- skinned sol-

diers in black leather. Still others simply stood and stared at the

rising column of fire and smoke. Slowly, I understood. I recognized

the golden horsehead emblazoned on their uniforms.

Illucia was attacking Rhodaire.

Illucia was killing the crows.

Someone moved behind Kiva. My mother appeared, gray eyes

wild and face splattered with blood. She held a dagger in each

hand. “Get inside the castle!” she ordered, but I didn’t move. She

sheathed a blade, her hand falling on my shoulder. “Anthia, you

have to go inside. Please.”

I felt warm. Too warm, but oddly calm. Like something had

reached inside me and wiped away all the fear, the confusion, and

the horrible, horrible understanding. My skin hummed, the sound

filling my ears, my chest, my bones.


12

My mother cursed, said something to Kiva, then hesitated a

second longer, her fingers digging tight into my shoulder. Something

shone behind her eyes, a forgotten emotion threatening to break

free— then she bolted toward the rookery. I lurched after her, but

Kiva’s strong arms pulled me back. My mother disappeared into

the column of flames. Then Kiva was gone, and I forgot to blink.

My vision filled with fire.

Swords clashed, metal screaming against metal so close to my

ear that I turned. Kiva dueled an Illucian soldier inches away. Had

that attack been meant for me? The thought barely registered. All I

could think about was the growing heat and dying air, the screams

of crows and people indecipherable in the night.

A Rhodairen soldier intercepted Kiva’s fight, and I turned back

to the rookery in time to see a shape fall in the doorway.

My body reacted. I sprang forward, screaming for my mother.

The shape rolled, crawling toward the exit, the flames moving like

a serpent preparing to strike. It wasn’t my mother.

“Estrel!” I seized her arm, not processing that her clothes were

on fire, that she was on fire, and pulled with all my strength. The

flames leapt onto my sleeve, but I pulled harder, her form toppling

out after me onto the damp grass. I rolled her over and over again,

then Kiva was there, smothering Estrel with her cloak.

Kiva yelled something at me, but I couldn’t hear her through

the blood pounding in my ears. Then she seized me and flung me

into the grass, slapping my hand, beating at it with the edge of the

cloak to extinguish the flames.

I stared at the ravaged skin, now a patchwork of scalded white

and red flesh. Red. Red as the fire raining down around me as

it consumed the royal rookery, consumed my mother, consumed

everything.

I felt Kiva beside me like one felt their shadow at their heel, an


13

intangible presence. She spoke, saying so many things. Things that

didn’t make any sense. Things like my mother was dead, the crows

were gone, the Illucian soldiers were coming, there were many

were already here.

It took me a moment to realize I was staring at something in

the sky. Bright as a miniature sun, a crow blazing with fire from

beak to tail soared across the night, wings spread as if the flames

had become a part of it, a flickering coat of smoldering feathers.

Then the fire seared through feather and muscle and bone, and it

plummeted to the earth like a falling star.

It struck the ground before me, erupting like a funeral pyre.

Only my raw throat told me I’d screamed the entire time it’d fallen.

“We have to move!” Kiva yelled.

I had just enough of myself left to look at her. To see the tears

streaming down her ash- stained face and to feel my own sliding hot

against my skin, before my burns flared with pain, and the world

went white.


one

The crows were gone.

Every day, I said those words to myself, but they didn’t

feel real. The world didn’t feel real. Each breath felt like a lie, as

if I’d climbed out of a cocoon into another realm, one of ash and

shadowed memories that tore at me like talons.

Without the beat of a crow’s wings, the air stood still.

Silence smothered the castle garden, the charred royal rook-

ery standing like a headstone in the distance. Even the sunlight

looked wrong, rebounding sharply off the castle as if afraid to

get too close.

I sat at the patio table, tracing a finger along where the red and

white splotches of months’ old burn scars met my skin, and tried

desperately to ignore the man standing across from me.

The Illucian messenger wore rich, finely cut blues lined in gold,

the material too thick for the Rhodairen summer sun. He wasn’t a

soldier, but he carried a sword nonetheless and would know how


16

to use it. He’d been allowed to keep it, since asking an Illucian to

give up their weapon was akin to asking a wolf not to bite your

hand while you pulled out its teeth. As a compromise, two castle

guards stood within easy striking distance.

The Saints must hate me. It’d been nearly six months since the

Illucian Empire destroyed my life. I’d barely left my room since. I’d

hardly gotten out of bed. Even now, I wanted to burrow beneath

my blankets and disappear into the darkness. Then the one day I

managed to drag myself downstairs, convinced it could be a decent

day, I got stuck watching an Illucian.

His gaze bored into me, and it took everything I had not to look

at him. I was afraid of what I might do if I did.

A spark of fury rallied against the prison of grief and pain that

had grown inside me layer by layer over the last few months. I

hated that he’d been allowed into Rhodaire, allowed onto the castle

grounds. Hated that we had to hear out his queen’s demands, that I

didn’t have a crow to seize him by his perfectly manicured uniform

and lift him high, high into the air…

“Will the queen be here soon?” he asked for the second time,

his accent light.

It sounded like a crow’s talons on stone, and the back of my

neck prickled with a chill despite the sun. We’d been waiting for

my sister for nearly ten minutes.

“If you ask again, maybe I’ll suddenly know.” Not the diplo-

matic response, but politics had never been my strength.

“Will the queen be here soon?”

My eyes snapped up, locking with his. He smiled, and I gritted

my teeth at giving him that small victory. Ignore him. Forcing my

gaze out across the castle gardens, I exhaled slowly. I’d promised

myself today would be a good day. I needed a good day. But faced

with an Illucian, all I could think about was what they’d taken


17

from us. What they still took. Terrorizing our borders, attacking

our trade routes, sinking our ships.

Looking at the garden didn’t help. My eyes naturally found

the spots where the flowers had started to droop, stains of brown

spreading among the green. Without the earth crows’ magic, plants

like the bright flowering delladon vine that climbed the lattice-

work along the castle were a breath away from dust.

Rhodaire was dying.

I looked away, blinking slowly. Without storm crows to manip-

ulate it, the hot, humid summer weather persisted unrelentingly.

The sweet scent of fruit trees hung heavy in the air, pressing in on

me from all directions. Only the messenger kept me alert. What

did he want?

Voices filtered out through the open door. I straightened as my

sister stepped onto the patio, a striking figure with her immaculate

posture and dark hair loose to her waist. Kiva followed, the sun

reflecting off the metal buckles of her silver- and- green guard’s uni-

form. The tension in my shoulders eased as she slipped to my side.

“Your Majesty.” The messenger barely inclined his head.

Caliza’s steel- colored eyes evaluated him quickly, her face an

impassive mask. “We can speak inside.”

I frowned as the messenger followed her into the sunroom at

the back of the patio. What didn’t Caliza want me to hear?

Kiva dropped into the seat beside me, her hand falling to its

natural position on the crow- shaped pommel of her sword. “Sorry

it took me so long. She was in a meeting.”

“Not your fault. Besides, we were having such a wonderful

time.” I slumped in my chair, leaning my head back.

Not a day passed where I didn’t think about the crows. I

couldn’t shut out the memories. Scenes of visiting the royal rook-

ery to tickle storm crow chicks until they buzzed with lightning


18

or walking under the glow of a sun crow in the dusky moonlight

played over and over in my mind. Seeing the messenger just made

it all worse.

A flash of red made me flinch, but it was only a pair of summer

tanagers flying by, their feathers the rich ruby of a ripe pomegran-

ate. You’re fine. Don’t think about it. I rubbed my scarred arm in an

absent motion.

Kiva eyed me intently. I sighed, straightening and readjusting

the silver bracelet on my right wrist. “I’m not going to climb back

into bed, all right?”

“Good. I don’t have time to fetch a bucket of water to dump on

you.” She smirked, and I glared flatly back. She was joking— mostly.

“You would enjoy that entirely too much,” I said.

Kiva’s smile faltered. “I don’t enjoy any part of seeing you like

this.”

I clenched my jaw but didn’t respond. I’m just sad. I’ll get over

it soon. I repeated the mantra in my head, ignoring the quiet voice

that whispered it had been nearly six months. While I hid, the

world went on without me.

Guilt prickled low and hot in my stomach. I hated knowing

Kiva worried about me. Hated knowing I was the cause of her pain.

It’d taken me months to confide in her, convinced the moment I

told someone how I felt, as if the world had split apart and swal-

lowed me whole, they’d call me ridiculous. Dramatic. Weak.

Instead, she’d listened, and then she’d held me while I cried until

my throat turned raw.

Kiva leaned back, flipping her braid of white- gold hair over her

shoulder and lifting a hand to shield her face from the sun. She’d

been born in Rhodaire, but her pale Korovi skin burned easily.

“What do you think he wants?” She nodded in the direction the

messenger and Caliza had gone.


19

“Nothing good.”

I hadn’t seen an Illucian since Negnoch. Since Rhodairen trai-

tors helped Illucian soldiers set fire to the rookeries, their elite

archers shooting any crows that escaped the flames.

Ronoch, people called it now. Red Night.

If the Illucian army hadn’t been spread so thin the night they

attacked, they might have conquered Rhodaire then and there.

At first, I’d wanted revenge. Deep inside, the part of me that

hated the defeated person I’d become still did. Now, I recognized

we didn’t stand a chance. Illucia had conquered nearly half the

continent for a reason— their army was unstoppable. Soon, they

would have Rhodaire too.

The messenger’s voice suddenly rose from the sunroom. Kiva

and I fell silent, leaning closer to listen.

“My queen has given her answer, Your Majesty,” he practically

purred.

My head snapped up at the mention of the Illucian queen, and

I locked eyes with Kiva. Something flickered in my chest, a spark

of anger springing to life. Then Caliza stepped onto the patio. The

messenger loomed behind her with a smug look of satisfaction that

made my stomach turn.

“We need to talk,” Caliza said to me, then looked at Kiva.

“Privately.”

Kiva stood. “I have recruit training. Come see me after.” She

bowed to Caliza before sweeping past her. The messenger made to

remain, but Kiva looked at him expectantly. Her imposing figure

made it clear staying wasn’t an option. Wisely, he went with her.

Caliza took Kiva’s seat, removing the silver circlet shaped like a

garland of feathers from her head and setting it on the table. I eyed

the circlet. She took every opportunity not to wear it, claiming the

edges got tangled in her hair.


20

It makes her think too much about Mother.

I understood. Its matching piece— the bracelet of silver feath-

ers on my wrist— had belonged to Estrel. They were both dead

now. My mother, they’d ambushed in the rookery, but Estrel…

Her death hadn’t been swift.

Caliza’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Do you have anything

productive planned for today?” My eyes cut to her, narrowing. She

sighed. “It’s a fair question, Thia. You hardly talk to anyone, and

you spend so much time in your room. If you’d try a little— ”

“If this is what you wanted to talk about, I’m leaving.” I didn’t

need this lecture again. Feeling this way— it wasn’t my choice. I

couldn’t make it stop. I’d tried.

A vein in Caliza’s forehead twitched. She looked so much like

our mother when that happened, an impression aided by the thin

oval face and high cheekbones they’d once shared.

I looked like her too, except my black hair was curly where

Caliza’s was wavy. The brown freckles speckling my face were

absent from hers, and where she was tall and willowy, my body

was hardened by years of rider training. Or at least it had been.

Now my figure was a little less muscle, a little more curve.

We had the same eyes though, our mother’s eyes. Not the typ-

ical dark Rhodairen umber, but bright gray like storm clouds lit by

lightning.

“You’re seventeen; you’re an adult,” she said. “You have to pull

yourself together. You can’t spend the rest of your life in your

room.”

“Pull myself together?” My voice broke. How could three

simple words make me feel so small?

Her hand fell atop my unscarred one. I stared at it, feeling as

though mine were someone else’s hand. “You’re alive, Anthia. Be

thankful. Move forward.”


21

I flinched, jerking my hand away. “You don’t understand. I

can’t— I don’t— ” My throat tightened, locking the words inside.

How did I explain something I didn’t even understand myself?

This was just like Caliza, to think a problem could be solved with

only logic.

This was why I’d hidden in my room, why I wanted to run

there now. Alone, no one could make me feel like an ungrateful

little girl, rejected and inferior. No one could look at me like Caliza

was now: disappointed, impatient, accusatory. As if this were all in

my head and it’d go away if only I tried hard enough.

Didn’t she understand that I would if I could?

I swallowed hard. “What do you want from me, Caliza? To

marry some foreign prince and pretend to like him so our countries

can get along?” She stiffened, and I regretted the words instantly.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair,” I said. Caliza had married Kuren

because Trendell’s support was helping keep Rhodaire alive with-

out the crows. He was the second oldest prince of the eastern king-

dom, a good man. Even now, he was in Trendell coordinating aid

on Rhodaire’s behalf. “Have you heard from him?”

“This morning.”

I waited, but she said nothing more. The silence stretched. A

familiar weight settled on my shoulders, the urge to crawl into bed

and spend the day under the covers slowly growing stronger.

No. My hand found Estrel’s bracelet. I pictured the weight as a

snake like Kiva had once suggested, imagining it slithering off my

shoulders until it was gone. Except it never truly left.

Caliza worried at a few strands of hair with her fingers. She

even had our mother’s nervous habits. They’d become more pro-

nounced lately, though she still kept her emotions in an iron grip in

front of other people. A skill I’d never mastered. Around me, she’d

been snappier and more finicky than ever.


22

“What is this really about, Caliza?” I asked.

Her fingers stilled, and she met my gaze. Her eyes were silent

and strong, but I saw the storm prepared to break behind them.

It’d been growing for days.

“Armies aren’t easy to build,” she said. “They take time to grow,

to train, to supply. After we lost the crows, what we taught our sol-

diers had to change. Trendell has been very supportive, and we’ve

made progress in the last few months, but not enough. And with

the food shortages and loss of jobs, with everything, if Illucia— ”

“Are they threatening to attack?”

Caliza’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Queen Razel doesn’t

threaten. She subtly implies until you’re not sure if she said it or

if you thought it all up yourself. But whether she’ll say it or not,

she’s made herself clear. Our scouts confirmed: half her army is

now sitting on our border.”

My breath caught, hands closing into fists. “What does she want?”

“I’ve tried to find another option, Thia. Please believe I would

never willingly choose this. But we can’t sustain a war with Illucia.

We have no choice.”

“What are you talking about?” My heart stilled. What had she

done?

“I’ve agreed to a marriage between you and Prince Ericen.”

The words pierced me like talons, hooking deep. I waited for

the pain. Nothing came. Because this wasn’t real. This wasn’t

happening.

My throat burned— I wasn’t breathing. Caliza said something,

but her words sounded like they were swimming through honey

to reach me.

Something touched my arm, and I sprang to my feet, knocking

over my chair. Caliza had stood up, her hand outstretched as I

stepped back.


23

“Please, Thia.”

Something like a laugh bubbled out of my throat, except

wilder, more dangerous. She hadn’t even given me a choice. She’d

engaged me to the son of the woman who’d ordered the destruc-

tion of everything I cared about, who’d killed our mother, caused

Estrel’s death, and left me permanently scarred.

A slow, insidious heat spread through my veins. “No.” The

word trembled.

“We have no choice.”

“We? Are you marrying the son of a psychopath too? Have you

heard the rumors about him?”

Caliza straightened. The storm broke in her eyes. “This isn’t just

about you. I have to think about Rhodaire too. This kingdom is on

the edge of a cliff. We cannot go to war. I know this isn’t ideal— ”

“Not ideal?” I slammed my hand onto the table. “Are you seri-

ous? Don’t try to manage me, Caliza. I’m not some disgruntled

house lord you can manipulate.”

“Thia— ”

“They set fire to our rookeries. They killed every single crow,

nearly all the riders, and our mother!” I didn’t care that I was yell-

ing now. “Our mother, and you want me to forget everything and

marry that bastard?” I thrust my burned hand in front of her face.

“How am I supposed to forget?”

Caliza’s face flushed a deep red. For an endless moment, she

stared at my scarred hand. Then she met my gaze and let out a

slow breath. “We are the leaders of Rhodaire. Our duty is to our

kingdom, not ourselves.”

The adrenaline drained from my body, leaving me hollow.

“You’re my sister. Your duty should be to me.”

She looked away, and something inside me threatened to crack.

I didn’t know there were still pieces of me left to break.


24

“This is the only way to keep our people safe. It will give us time

to strengthen ourselves, to prepare.” Her words tumbled out in a

torrent, her composure fracturing. “Ardrahan’s Theory of War and— ”

“Your history books don’t know anything about our situation!

Queen Razel will use this marriage to take control of Rhodaire.

That’s all Illucia wants. You’re not buying us time; you’re sealing

our fate!”

Caliza’s chin lifted, an all too familiar expression etched on

her face. She knew what was best, not me. “The wedding will take

place in Illucia at a date of Razel’s choosing. Prince Ericen will be

here tomorrow on his way back from Jindae to take you with him.”

She paused. “I’m sorry.”

I seized the table edge for support. Caliza never apologized.

The lump in my throat threatened to choke me, and I swallowed

hard. She wasn’t going to change her mind.

The urge to flee struck so powerfully, I nearly knocked over

a chair bolting down the patio stairs. Caliza called after me, but I

didn’t stop. The wind roared in my ears as I raced along the dying

castle gardens, choosing direction at random, blind to where my

legs were taking me.

Suddenly, I was standing before the remains of the royal rook-

ery, my stomach threatening to return my breakfast, my throat

closing when all I needed was air.

The rookery entrance had been blocked off, but there was a

hole big enough for me to crawl through on the side. I struggled

through the opening, scraping my forearms and tearing the hem of

my dress on the scattered debris, but I didn’t stop as I charged up

the soot- covered steps to the second level.

The tower went up several more floors, but the circular room

had caved in, blocking the stairwell and creating a dark alcove. I

huddled underneath it with my arms wrapped around my knees,


25

not caring that my dress was covered in ash or that I’d scraped my

elbow hard enough to bleed.

I felt like I had the night the crows died— like everything was

out of my control.

Caliza had promised me to Prince Ericen. She’d bartered me

away, and now I would lose everything. My friendship with Kiva,

my home, what little normalcy I’d regained— for what? A few

more months to prepare for a war we couldn’t win even if we had

years to recover? The Illucian Empire’s soldiers were utterly elite.

Nothing less could have destroyed the crows.

Surely, this was all a ploy by Razel. She was like a jungle cat

toying with her food. This was probably some sick joke to her.

Why else ask for this marriage?

The familiar weight slithered up my shoulders. I didn’t even

try to make it leave. I was floating in limbo, my future gone, my

past all too present. Now, more than ever, I wished for a crow to

carry me far, far away. We’d fly straight past Korovi and Jindae to

the unexplored wilderness in the east. We’d never stop.

But the crows were gone.


Two

Golden sunlight filtered in from what remained of the rookery

windows. Heat and the scent of smoke permeated the early

afternoon air, but my bones had turned to ice. I hadn’t moved from

my spot on the ground, though I’d drawn several pictures in the

ash and dust that a warm breeze gently erased.

Memories swirled around me like leaves caught in the wind:

meeting Estrel in the rookery for my rider training, teasing Caliza

when the crows ignored her commands, sneaking out in the middle

of a thunderstorm to sit with a candle among the birds, warm,

quiet, content.

I spun Estrel’s bracelet around my wrist. My mother had died

not five feet from where I sat, killed by Illucian soldiers. I’d have

bet on her over a hundred Illucians, but that night…

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying and failing to imagine

what she would do in my situation. Caliza had stuck to her like

feathers on a crow, preparing to become queen. I’d spent more


28

time with Estrel, studying as a rider. People said Caliza and I were

our mother split in half: me, stubborn and independent, and Caliza,

steadfast with a knack for handling people and politics.

Our mother may have swallowed her pride and married Ericen,

like Caliza would. Or maybe she’d have thrown the proposal back

in Queen Razel’s face. You never knew which side of her you were

going to get, if you had her attention at all. Sometimes, I’d strug-

gled to get even that.

For half a second, I considered praying to the Saints, the eight

original riders. Legend had it they established Aris with the help

of the Sellas, the ancient creatures said to have created the crows.

But the Saints hadn’t come on Ronoch. Either they didn’t exist, or

they didn’t care.

My thoughts pinned me to the ground. It’d been a mistake

coming to the rookery. Too many memories slept inside.

It’d been at least two hours; Caliza would be worried. Some

petty part of me found satisfaction in that and wanted to leave her

to wonder where I was. Controlling my emotions had never been

my strength, but it’d been weeks since I’d reacted to anything as

strongly as the engagement. Maybe it meant I was getting better,

though I’d thought that before. Why couldn’t I just be okay?

Sighing, I used the wall to stand. Soot clung to my dress, blood

staining my elbow where I’d scraped it. I needed a bath. Besides,

sitting here wouldn’t stop Ericen from arriving tomorrow.

Today was supposed to be a good day. The words reverberated in

the hollow space inside my chest.

As I dusted off what I could of the ash, my gaze snagged on

a bit of scorched leather near the edge of the tower. I crouched

beside it, running my fingers over the familiar pleats that formed

the shoulders of a rider’s flying leathers. Had whomever they

belonged to made it out of the tower alive?


29

I stood, letting my fingertips brush along a blackened window-

sill, trying to conjure the feeling the rookery used to instill in me.

But it was like fighting against the wind; the feeling refused to come.

I pushed deeper into the rubble, suddenly desperate for something,

anything that might spark that familiar lightness inside me.

The anticipation of flight, the wonder at the power and strength

around me, the safety I’d felt, enclosed in these circular walls— it

was all gone. All that remained was ash and rubble.

Something sparkled in the corner of my eye. I stopped my

search a half a step past it, and it vanished. Sunlight poured in from

the window at my back, illuminating a patch of blackened stone. I

stepped back, and it glinted again.

I had to duck under a fallen beam to reach the spot, but once

on the other side, I could see the sparkle clearly. Something lay

buried beneath the stones and months- old straw from the crows’

nests. My mind whispered this was foolish, to stop before I was

disappointed, but I ignored it.

As I carefully moved aside stones, filling the air with dust

and ash, the glint turned to a soft, blue- black glow. Something

hummed, vibrating against my skin like lightning- charged wind in

a storm. Calming, like a familiar comfort I’d forgotten. It slipped

beneath my skin, into my muscles and blood, my very bones, chas-

ing away the ice settled there.

I moved the last stone and stilled.

I knew what I was looking at. Even as I touched the ethereal

shell, glittering like the night sky trapped in glass, even as my brain

rejected the hulking size, the silklike feel, and the undeniable hum

of magic, I knew.

It was a storm crow egg.

Careful not to touch the remaining unstable stone pile, I

reached in and pulled the egg toward me. It was nearly as large


30

as my torso, and the more I touched it, the stronger the humming

became. Bending deep with my knees for leverage, I hoisted the

egg into my arms.

Something cracked, and everything happened very fast. The

stone shifted, and I tugged the egg back just as something seized

my dress and flung me away from the crumbling stone. The ground

shuddered as the stone collapsed, crushing wood and broken glass.

Dust and ash erupted into the air as debris swallowed the hole,

burying the spot I’d been standing in.

I lay blinking at the floating specks in the sunlight, the crow

egg clasped to my chest. My heart drummed against it. Kiva stood

next to me, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her

pale eyes stared down at me accusingly.

Then she saw the egg. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“I know you’re fine. I just saved your life.” She helped me to

my feet.

I started to dust myself off and gave up. My dress would take

more than a pat down to clean. Sighing, I held out the egg. The

sunlight rippled around it, as if being drawn in and absorbed by

the celestial shell. The thrumming had quieted but still resonated

along my hands like the hum of a plucked string.

“Do you hear that?” I asked.

“That’s the sound of your stupidity ringing in your head.”

“Quieter than that— the egg.”

“I don’t hear anything.” She pressed her ear to the shell and

drew back with a shrug. “Maybe you hit your head. What were you

even doing up here?”

All at once, I slammed back to reality. “Illucia’s threatening to

attack, and Caliza’s idea of solving the problem is agreeing to their

demands for a marriage between me and Prince Ericen.”


31

Kiva’s lips parted and closed several times. She swallowed

hard, set her jaw. “I’m going to kill her.”

“That’s treason.”

“Seriously injure her.”

“Still treason.”

She threw up her hands. “Hasn’t she heard the rumors about

him? He’s as vicious and cruel as Illucians come. Has she lost

her mind?”

“Yes.” Even as I said it, guilt swept through me. “No. She did

this to protect Rhodaire.” She’d probably fretted about it for days,

poring over books looking for another way until her vision blurred,

but in the end, she’d chosen the most logical solution to an impos-

sible problem, like she always did.

Meanwhile, I’d done nothing.

Six months ago, no one would have dared threaten our king-

dom. The riders were fierce, and the crows fiercer. A battle crow

could take on six cavalrymen at once, and an earth crow could

open a sinkhole beneath an army. Now, Razel threatened to con-

quer us like she had Jindae and the Ambriel Islands. She would

destroy our culture, level our cities, and funnel our children into

her army until everything we were had been forgotten.

“All this because those soldiers chose power over their king-

dom.” I clutched the egg closer, seeking its warmth. It still seemed

impossible that some of our soldiers had betrayed us. They had

sold their loyalty to Razel, providing vital information and allowing

Illucian soldiers to slip through their ranks. They’d helped butcher

the crows that trusted them.

Illucia had planned everything perfectly.

They’d known that at the end of the Sky Dance, every single

crow from across Rhodaire would return to their rookeries.

They’d known all the eggs would be gathered in the royal rookery.


32

Instead of facing an army, all they’d had to do was destroy nine

towers.

And they’d had help from our own people.

“Those soldiers deserved what they got.” The derision in Kiva’s

tone was sharper than a blade.

Executed.

Razel had used the soldiers, making promises she would never

keep, and then had them killed.

Scowling, I shifted the egg in my arms and kicked away a chunk

of rubble, relishing the solid contact even as my foot ached. “What

I want to know is why Razel offered this. Why promise us peace in

exchange for this marriage? We’re not in a position to deny them

anything. What do they gain?”

“It gives Illucia a foothold in Rhodaire. She can’t take it by

force easily. Nearly a quarter of her army is running Jindae, another

chunk is in the Ambriels, and now I hear she’s threatening Korovi.

Why squander men attacking Rhodaire if she can take it some

other way?”

“Marrying me to Ericen won’t give her control of the kingdom.

There has to be another step to her plan.”

Or another motive altogether. But what?

I ran my fingers over the egg, and it hummed against my skin.

The feeling was both exhilarating and comforting at once. “I have to

hatch this egg. If we had even one crow, Illucia would think twice

about what they’re doing. It’s the only chance we have of protect-

ing Rhodaire and my only chance of not marrying that bastard.”

Kiva stared at me like I’d sprouted wings. “Be careful. You’re

dangerously close to sounding like this girl I used to know. Tongue

as sharp as a crow’s talons, menace to authorities everywhere,

about this tall.” She held a hand to her chest, a good few inches

shorter than my actual height.


33

I glowered but couldn’t suppress my smile. Kiva had a way

of pulling me out of myself, perfected over a lifetime of friend-

ship. I couldn’t remember a time without her at my side. She

filled my memories: sneaking into the riding school to watch the

riders train, stealing orange cakes from the kitchens before dinner,

hiding Caliza’s books whenever she left her study table unguarded

in the library.

Kiva had been there every minute to say what a bad idea it

was, but she had always stayed. She was always there for me,

like she had been for every day of the exhausting cycle of despair

that had imprisoned me since Ronoch. I didn’t have the energy to

get out of bed, and lying there made me lethargic until my limbs

became weights holding me down. My head would hurt, turning

my thoughts slow and difficult, each one taking more effort than

it was worth, until all I wanted was to fall asleep again. But sleep

made it worse.

Without her, I’d never have started getting out of bed. I never

would have left my room today, and I might not have ended up in

the rookery.

Kiva grinned at my feigned annoyance. “Anyway, it got buried

under rubble and nearly incinerated. Whatever’s inside is proba-

bly dead.”

“Crow eggs are filled with magic. It could have survived.” The

egg hummed in my arms as if agreeing.

Kiva looked doubtful but held out a hand. “All right. Let’s

crack it open and find out.”

I hugged the egg against my body. “You can’t just crack it open!

It has to hatch naturally.”

“How?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, brow furrowing. How did

the eggs hatch? They weren’t like normal bird eggs. Something


34

else happened to them, because every year on the winter solstice,

they all hatched at once. For some reason, this one hadn’t, despite

surviving Ronoch when no other eggs had.

Maybe it couldn’t. Maybe Kiva was right, and the egg was

nothing but an empty shell. I shook the thought away. However

small the chance was the egg could hatch, I had to try.

Problem was, I’d never seen it done.

We climbed out of the rookery together and returned to the castle.

Kiva gave me her cloak to wrap the egg in, and I hugged it against

my chest, still not fully believing what I’d found. The egg’s hum-

ming settled deep into my bones, resonating like the echo of a thun-

derclap. It felt so familiar, so alive. Like a piece of me had returned.

Something fluttered in my stomach, a feeling I’d almost forgot-

ten. Something I hesitated to name, lest it disappoint me. Still, I

clung to the rising hope, feeling as if I balanced on a glass precipice,

waiting for it to shatter and send me careening into the nothingness

like so many times before.

After Ronoch, we’d searched the rookery for surviving eggs

and found nothing. When the third floor collapsed, nearly killing

two riders, the search was put off until we could stabilize the

rookery. But in the face of starvation and mass destruction, it had

been forgotten.

We’d decided to ask Caliza about the egg. She’d shunned the

crows most of her life and probably wouldn’t know a thing, but

we had no one else. Most of the Corvé were gone; they’d been

targeted on Ronoch, just like the crows. Those that remained had

never helped my mother with the hatching.

I looked at my feather bracelet. Only Estrel had.


35

We stopped by my room, where I hid the egg in a drawer of

rarely worn sweaters in my closet armoire and changed into a clean

dress. My elbow had stopped bleeding, so I wiped away the dirt

and left it be. Then we sought out Caliza.

What would she say to me? Would she apologize again? I

snorted at the thought, then crushed the tiny voice that hoped

maybe she’d changed her mind. That never happened.

We found her in her office talking with a tall, broad- shouldered

woman with pale hair. Larisa Mirkova, Kiva’s mother and captain

of the royal guard. They paused as we entered, but I still caught

the tail of their conversation. They were talking about the failing

crops again.

Kiva saluted her mother, only relaxing when the captain

nodded. Caliza met my gaze. Her expression remained impassive,

but I knew what she was thinking: had I accepted my fate?

I held her gaze without blinking: not even close.

“Sakiva,” Captain Mirkova said, her Korovi accent heavy.

Unlike her daughter, Captain Mirkova had lived half her life in

Korovi. “You should be helping with afternoon training. This is

irresponsible of you.”

Kiva stiffened beside me, but she didn’t rise to her mother’s

bait. She’d always had more discipline than me.

I faced Caliza, getting straight to the point. “What do you know

about hatching crows?”

She frowned a very specific frown, the one she’d used since we

were children whenever I talked about the crows. “Why do you

want to know?”

“Humor me.”

Caliza’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know anything more than

you. They’re all born on Hatch Night, on the winter solstice, but

Mother said that was ceremonial.”


36

“But what makes them all hatch at the same time? And why

did they never hatch where we could see them?”

“I don’t know, Anthia. And it doesn’t matter. I’m very busy

right now. I don’t have time for this.”

There it was. It doesn’t matter. She rarely said anything else

to me about the crows. They’re gone. It doesn’t matter. Move on. I

could tell her about the egg, but she wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t

believe one crow could save us. She’d never believed.

“The least you can do is answer a question or two,” I said. “You

owe me that.”

Something flashed behind her eyes that had her turning her

face away. “I really don’t know more. Let it go.”

Disappointment filled me, weighing me to the spot. Caliza had

been a long shot, and now even that hope had been crushed.

What if the secret to hatching was lost forever?

Swallowing against the tightness in my throat, I stormed out

of Caliza’s office, Kiva on my heel. With the need I had to do

something suddenly left without an objective, I felt untethered,

my motivation leaking from me like blood from a wound.

I slowed to a halt in the middle of the entrance hall, my energy

all but gone.

“Thia?” Kiva asked cautiously.

“I don’t know what to do.” I buried my face in my hands.

Kiva laid a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go for a ride. Some

fresh air might help.”


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